Grateful Dead
by littlechivalry
Summary: Harry makes a gruesome discovery when he returns to the Shrieking Shack after the Final Battle ends. He is adrift, but a blond, a dog, and a ghost may be able to help with that. Post-DH, no epilogue. Future slash, sorrow and drama, and an adorable puppy.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. Just had a idea one day while I was reading a book and decided to run with it.

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**GRATEFUL DEAD**

**Chapter 1**

It was over, it was all over and he had won, so why did he feel so lost?

Aimlessly, Harry wandered over the battlegrounds, looking for something that would help him make sense of events. He had been in the fight, seen his friends and family die around him, and yet none of it felt real.

Slowly he made his way to the Shrieking Shack where Snape died, his last request a look into Harry's eyes. Aurors had picked over the building for hours, making sure it was safe and clean of all Dark influence.

Harry sat on a low bench against the wall and closed his eyes, picturing the fight both internal and external, and the weeping child that Voldemort had become at the moment of his true defeat.

Sighing heavily, he stood like a much older man, and made his way back out into the ruddy sunset.

Scrub bushes framed the entrance to the Shack and in them he saw a scrap of black fabric shifting in the wind. He moved towards it, drawn for no reason he could name and as he tugged lightly on the fabric, the branches shifted and he saw the battered body of Severus Snape lying in the dirt, uncovered to the sky and stars.

The Auror that had been assigned Potter-Watch for the day came forward. He'd spent the entire morning exactly four feet from Harry at all times. The Dark Lord was dead, but there was no guarantee his followers had gone and the Ministry insisted Harry be protected.

"Sir, you should leave that be," the man said, his voice muted and tentative in the gathering twilight.

Harry stared down at the body. Snape looked small. Had he ever been the threatening giant Harry remembered, or was that just a child's perspective of an adult, now diminished by time, experience, and death?

"Why is he still here? Why did you leave him here," Harry asked, hearing his voice still and quiet in the gloom.

"He was a traitor. He killed Dumbledore and ran to the Dark Lord. He got what he deserved, what he earned. Matter of fact, he still owes us."

Harry opened his mouth as the man swung his foot back and kicked the corpse. The body shifted slightly on the rocky ground, and small pebbles rolled down the hillside.

As the man swung his leg again, Harry shoved him backwards, sending him to fall heavily into the prickly bushes.

"What the hell are you doing? He was a hero! He saved me, saved all of us. He doesn't deserve this."

The Auror gingerly stood in the midst of the bushes, "A hero, eh? Well, he was no hero of mine. Maybe it's true what they say of you, Potter. Maybe you are dark."

Tearing himself free of the outreaching thorns, the man sharply adjusted his robes and stomped off, leaving Harry alone with Snape.

"I can't say you were my favorite person ever, but you didn't deserve this life and you definitely don't deserve this death."

Harry went back into the Shack and pulled out the bench, settling it on a firm patch of earth.

Pulling out his wand, holly and phoenix feather, he cleared away the scrub and dug a hole. He transfigured the bushes into an ebony casket and levitated the body, clad in clean robes of fine velvet, into place on a bed of black satin.

With a few gentle gestures, he had the box settled into position, and using a few more bushes, he built a black marble mausoleum around the box.

A statue of a sleeping doe made of more black marble graced the roof, and on the door, Harry made a plaque that read: _Severus Snape; Teacher, Martyr, Hero_.

His eyes bleary with exhaustion, Harry stood, swaying only a little, and made his way back to Hogwarts.

He found the Auror sleeping under a tree a few feet from the castle walls and left him there, silently hoping a flock of mosquitoes would visit the man, but too exhausted to make it happen.

He walked into the castle and up to his old dorm without passing any occupants, living or dead, and for that he was thankful as all Harry wanted was a few hours of sleep free from dreams or nightmares.

He heard a strange tapping noise as he pulled aside the curtain on his bed, but ignored it.

Strange sounds were normal in the magical castle, and as long as whatever it was waited until he was asleep to kill him, he didn't really care. As he fell onto the mattress and into sleep, he though he felt something soft on his cheek, like the brush of a feather, then he was gone.

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**Note: **So there we have chapter 1 of a new story. Off the top of my head I have no idea how many incomplete stories I am running right now, but I couldn't help myself. I like this one, my beta likes this one, and I wanted to see if you guys like it too. Now, I am not going to explain the origin of the story or the title except to say that it has nothing to do with the band, though of course I respect their work greatly.

Please review and tell me what you think. Updates will be slow in coming but I have always found reviews a great motivation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters and the basis for this story is an old myth/ghost story and I don't own that either.

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**Chapter 2**

The next morning bloomed bright and loud. Ron's thundering snores were matched with Hermione's gentler version, the two having been given permission to share a bed after they announced their engagement, and they both looked so tired that Harry abandoned his usual response, a sharp pillow to the face. The Weasley family was one of the lightest hit, only one dead and minor injuries to the rest, but still they all seemed the less for it. Harry supposed that was what losing family was like and was absently thankful it had happened for him when he was too young to understand it.

His robes were wrinkled, the natural consequence of being slept in, but he didn't care. He ran his hand through his hair, loosening the most obvious snarls, and made his way down to the Great Hall.

It had only been a few days since the end of the war and there seemed to be a lull in the celebrations. The immediate relief that it was over had faded into shock that it **really** was over.

Harry expected another round of parties and ceremonies any day. He could feel it building in the air like a storm.

He'd made his way through the first few events by the skin of his teeth, and with a great deal of alcohol for lubrication. Soon he would decide where he was going to live, and then he would disappear. They could give his accolades to him by proxy, Harry knew several people who would be more than willing to stand on a stage and accept someone else's applause.

And one of them joined him at the table.

"Malfoy."

"Potter."

Harry had seen Draco wandering the castle over the past few days, just another pale and bloodless ghost, except this one was alive. The Malfoy family escaped the first wave of vengeance trials, but it was only a matter of time before the rough justice of the Wizarding World hit them. Lucius had taken his chance and run, no one knew where he had gone.

Narcissa decided to plead her case and she made her way through London , wizarding and muggle, fighting for support, for help. She had a chance, too. She was Dark by blood and marriage, but a Death Eater only in name.

This left their son behind, to stalk the hallways of Hogwarts, avoiding any direct gaze and all confrontation.

After their simple greeting, affectionate and loving in comparison to their childish behavior of years past, the two sat in silence, eating more out of obligation and routine than any kind of desire for the food that spread so lavishly across the shining wooden tables.

Harry heard a low sobbing sound, and smirked. Turning to Draco, he said, "What's the matter Malfoy? Crying?"

The blond Slytherin looked at him with dry eyes and said, "Hardly Potter," then turned back to his meal.

The sound came again. Other than Draco, the Great Hall was deserted. Harry got up, looked around the tables, then under them, and finally found the source of the noise tucked in a corner and wrapped in one of the thick velvet curtains. It was a small black puppy.

"What are you doing here?"

The pup whined again, and then growled as Harry reached tentative fingers towards it.

"All right. I understand. I feel the same way most days. Still, you must be hungry," taking his eyes off the dog, Harry turned towards the table where he saw Draco trying not to look over, "Malfoy, can you bring over some sausages or something?"

For a moment Harry was sure the Slytherin would refuse as the blond looked from the steaming sausages to Harry and the dog, and back again. Finally, he gave a visible sigh and began gathering the meat into a napkin.

Harry turned back to the puppy, hoping he could hold it in place with his gaze. He heard Draco walk towards him, his steps were silent, but his robes sent out a gentle –_hush, hush_- as he moved.

The spicy smell of the napkin-wrapped bundle met Harry's nose seconds before it was thrust before him with a desultory, "Here."

Harry took the sausages and untied them as quickly as he could, the puppy's eyes pinned on him, on his hands. He could feel Draco's gaze on the back of his neck.

Awkwardly fumbling free the food Harry set it on the floor, halfway between the dog and himself and sat on the dusty stones, hoping the pup would see it as a non-threatening gesture and come further out from the thick fabric of the curtains.

The dog moved forward, it's eyes on Harry as it's nose led him to the sausages, only a little the worse for wear. As the sunlight hit its coat, Harry heard Draco gasp behind him. If he weren't so numb, Harry might have gasped as well.

The dog was injured. The ragged bright pink lips of the wound in its side glistened in the gentle light, and a dark pool of old blood matted down the coat. There was no pus or infection that

Harry could see, but if he looked closely, which his stomach was adamantly telling him not to do, he could see the faint white glimmer of bones, ribs, behind the meat.

"Merlin." The soft oath came from behind him, and Harry turned to see Malfoy clutching his stomach with one arm, his free hand pressed to his face.

"You all right?"

Face frozen between shock and nausea, the Slytherin nodded, slowly relaxing his arms and walking forwards until he was right next to Harry.

"He needs help."

Harry nodded in agreement, watching the dog track his movement, still ferociously chewing. He reached out again, but again the dog growled at him, this time around a muzzle full of food.

"He won't come, he doesn't trust you."

Without looking away from the dog, Harry replied, "What the hell would you know?"

"Animals like me," Draco replied, gingerly crouching down on the floor.

Harry snorted softly. "I'm sort of torn."

At Draco's questioning look, he went on, "Well, I mean, I find it hard to believe that anything likes you. Then again, since no person likes you it only makes sense that animals would."

"You are a bastard and an idiot Potter," Draco replied, then turned towards the dog.

Moving slowly, the Slytherin sat on the floor and slid a few inches closer to the dog than Harry was. After a few minutes, he moved again, then again until he was almost within touching distance to the dog, but he made no other move.

Both Harry and the dog had watched this progression carefully, but when Draco did nothing else, the dog relaxed and went back to its food.

Slowly Draco set one hand on the floor close to the dog, moving it so achingly slowly Harry wanted to scream, until the pale fingers were resting where the thin black tail waved gently.

The first time the dark fur passed over the extended digits, the dog froze. But when nothing happened, it went on eating.

Again, Draco began moving his hand around the dog, keeping it within a few inches of the black-furred body at all times, he waited until the animal was done eating, and then put his hand in front of the creature.

The dog sniffed the pale fingers and licked them lightly.

"You know it's just because you smell like food, right Malfoy?"

Draco smiled, "I'll settle for cupboard love, Potter. It's the most loyal kind there is."

The dog seemed to agree, as it gingerly moved its black head under Malfoy's twitching fingers, allowing the Slytherin to scratch its crooked ears.

Harry watched the dog relax into the caress, eventually falling asleep. A few students and professors had come and gone from the Great Hall in the time it took for Malfoy to tame the dog.

Harry hated the new sense of awe the Wizarding World had for him, but it worked to his benefit now as everyone left him alone in the darkened corner with Malfoy and the dog.

"We have to get him some help," Malfoy's voice was quiet, as he gingerly lifted the dog and began to stand awkwardly.

Harry reached for him, whether to help him up or take the dog, even Harry wasn't sure and he let his hands fall back to his sides, "Where will you take him?"

"No one here really knows how to take care of animals, but I thought Pom might have some ideas, so I'm bringing him to her. He seems healthy enough, for all he's injured and I think she might enjoy having a patient who seems likely to pull through."

Harry listened, his mouth dropping open. Was that a joke? Was Draco serious? Just to be on the safe side, Harry followed him to the infirmary, while Draco held the dog cradled in his arms like a baby.

When they got there Harry was struck by how quiet it was. His first visit, hours after the final fight, had been dizzying, people rushing back and forth screaming and begging for help, for hope, for death.

Now the beds were filled with those who could still be healed, and those who couldn't were gone, either already dead or trying to rebuild their lives.

Pom came out of her office in a soft scented cloud of talcum powder and medicinal brandy; the last few days had been difficult for her as well.

"What's this boys?"

Draco held the dog tighter for a moment as the matron reached out thick arms for it, then set it on the corner of her bare desk.

Harry took in the Slytherin's stiff-backed silence and answered for him, "It's a dog, ma'am." At her glare, he went on, "I—We found him in the Great Hall. It looks a though he was attacked or something and we were hoping you could heal him."

Pomphrey nodded sharply and began to examine the dog, clucking her tongue at his dirt, matted fur and the blood soaked into it.

"Well," she said, wrapping a length of white bandage around his middle, "it looks as though something attacked him. I can't say exactly what, but it was big and had very sharp teeth. It looks like he dragged himself through brambles on his way to the castle, he's that covered in scratches. Still, there's no infection and he seems healthy enough in general, just a little underweight. Feed him well, tend him well, and bring him to me in two weeks. He should be fine."

Harry breathed a sigh if relief and heard Draco next to him so the same. Pom lifted the dog and held him out, both Harry and Draco raised their arms to take him.

Pom set the dog in Harry's arms, where it grumbled a bit before settling into his embrace.

Harry saw Draco's arms tremble, then fall, as the Slytherin boy turned away. Without thinking, Harry grabbed the sleeve of his robe with his free hand, stopping him mid-step. "Wait."

Draco turned back to him, saying nothing, but with a questioning light in his eyes.

Harry cleared his throat and released the robe, letting his hand fall away from the soft fabric,

"That is… you were great, getting him to trust you. I mean, you can take care of him, if you want."

Draco smiled a little, and reached out for the dog. As he did, the faded sleeve of his robe slipped back, exposing dark grey inky lines on his white skin. His arms dropped and he closed his eyes for a second, then turned and walked out of the infirmary, hands clenched into fists at his side.

Harry turned to Pomphrey, but she said nothing, so Harry readjusted his hold on the dog and left, following Draco.

Pale and silent, Draco traveled down the halls. No one acknowledged him, but they all moved out of his way, seeming to shrink back from contact with even the flaring edges of his robe.

Harry followed behind with the dog, now drowsing, in his arms.

Eventually Draco stopped in front of a worn tapestry depicting a forest scene. He muttered something Harry could not quite hear and stepped forwards, through the gap between two trees.

Harry got there just as the opening closed up and all his outstretched fingers felt was the thick woven material. The dog in his arms looked at the tapestry, then up at Harry, whuffling slightly.

Harry smiled at the brush of warm air and looked down at the dog, "Well, I guess it's just you and me now."

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**Note: **For the record I know bupkes about dogs or how to deal with them. If I see a strange injured dog I am calling a vet or a pet emergency center. I learn pretty fast and one rabies scare was enough for me. (For the record I was eight. I'm pretty sure it was just a tetanus shot and my mom was trying to frighten me into leaving strange dogs alone. [Full disclosure- it totally worked.])

I did my bit and posted my chapter. Now you guys need to do your part and review. I don't make money off of these stories but they do feed my ego. I want to get it big enough to take over the world.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world and my laptop kind of smells like burning, which is really unsettling.

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**Chapter 3**

_Harry smiled at the brush of warm air and looked down at the dog, "Well, I guess it's just you and me now."_

Harry tightened his grip carefully on the injured dog and walked back up the corridor to the tower.

He thought about returning to his room, seeing if Ron or Hermione were around, or any of his other friends. But he didn't really want to talk about the war, or Quidditch, or school, or the future, or anything at all.

Taking a left at a large painting of blue sheep grazing on a red field, he walked to the Owlery.

The Owlery had received some damage in the fight, stones in the wall having tumbled out of place, but as long as he stayed away from the edge, Harry and the dog would be fine.

He found a large stone that had rolled close to the wall, and settled down. It was early afternoon already and the sun warmed the small, close area. Harry leaned against the wall, enjoying the heat radiating off of the old rocks, and cuddled the dog to his chest.

Staring out at the endless blue sky framed by the broken wall, Harry smiled.

The dog looked at him quietly, and then laid its head down on its paws.

Harry looked down at the animal, "You've gotten a lot friendlier since I found you. I guess it was the food. Having a full stomach makes the world seem like a much nicer place. At least that's how it always worked for me."

The puppy growled lightly, licking its chops. Harry smiled and pulled a scrap of toast out of his pocket. It was a habit of his to squirrel away a little food from the overfull tables, things that wouldn't go bad or make too much mess.

The dog took the toast daintily and Harry felt the light prickle of its whiskers against his fingertips.

"I'm not sure if I have the right to name you, but no one else is here, so I think I'd like to call you… Blackie."

Blackie looked up at Harry, his muzzle bristled with toast crumbs.

"It isn't a fancy name, but I like the way it sounds."

Using a paw to brush off the prickly crumbs, the dog barked once, seemingly in agreement then looked up at Harry.

"What?"

Blackie pressed one paw against Harry's hand, where it lay on his thigh, then looked at his face again.

"Did you want to go somewhere?"

The dog shook its head slowly.

"What do you want?"

At that the dog's ears perked up and it moved slowly, rising to its hind feet on Harry's lap with its front paws pressed against his chest.

Harry raised his hands to support the dog and move him back down, but Blackie refused to budge, taking the opportunity Harry provided by holding him up to move his paws until they were pressed against Harry's cheeks.

Suddenly Harry found himself locked in a staring contest with a mangy black puppy that had toast crumbs in its fur.

"Blackie, what are you doing," Harry asked, trying to move the paws off of his face.

The dog leaned in until its cool nose was pressed against Harry's own and Harry smiled reflexively, staring deep into the shining black eyes of the puppy.

Smiling slightly, Harry said, "Is this what you wanted, Blackie? A staring contest?"

The dog sighed. Harry smelled sausage and wrinkled his nose, forcefully pushing the dog back and setting him on his lap again.

"No more staring contests until you brush your teeth mate."

The dog huffed an offended sounding breath. Harry scratched his head and watched as the dog's eyes slowly fell shut and its body became limp and heavy.

Staring out at the sky, he muttered, "What do you want, Blackie? Probably the same things I want, the same things everybody wants, right? A home, roof over your head and food on the table, and someone to love you. That's all you need, really."

Scratching the dog's head to the rhythm of its deep even breaths Harry felt his own eyes drift closed and he fell asleep with a smile on his face for the first time in weeks.

When Harry woke up a few hours later the sun had passed by the window and sunk below the horizon line.

It wasn't night yet, but the day was gone, and so was the dog.

Harry's lap was still warm, so he reasoned that the dog only recently left, and the animal was still injured, so he couldn't have gotten far.

Sitting upright, he stretched his back carefully, then stood and did the same for his legs. The stone chair had been so comfortable hours before, but now he was paying the price for having fallen asleep in sore muscles and numb legs.

Walking slowly, one hand on the wall to keep his balance, Harry called out, "Blackie? Blackie, where are you?"

Over the sound of his stomach's grumbling, Harry heard a muted growl.

Following the sound he heard voices, lowered but still intent.

"Make him jump! Do it!"

Another voice, "Is he going to cry? Poor little mite."

Raucous laughter followed.

Harry rounded the corner, ready to confront whoever was threatening his dog when he saw three fourth years, their wands drawn on a pale and shaking Draco Malfoy.

"Wha—"

His question was cut off by the boy in the front.

"Harry? I can't believe you're here, and with good timing too. We're going to punish this Slytherin traitor."

Harry heard the glee in the boy's voice and recognized him as the one who had spoken earlier.

A low growling caught his ear and Harry looked down to see the little black puppy standing between Malfoy and the three boys, his hackles raised and lips drawn back over sharp shining teeth.

"Harry?"

Draco had been looking down, staring at the dog, or the floor, or off into a shadow somewhere, but when he heard Harry's name his head popped up and a light came into his eyes that slowly died again as Harry just stood there silently.

The three boys, Ravenclaws by the badges on their robes, seemed unnerved as well.

"Don't you want to torture him, Harry? He's a Death Eater. Show us your mark Death Eater," the boy said, waving his wand at the Slytherin.

The puppy lunged forward, jumping and snapping at the end of the wand. When he couldn't reach it he dove under the boy's robes and soon the hall echoed with the sound of a cut-off scream.

The dog wandered back out from under the voluminous robes with a scrap of blood-stained fabric in his mouth and an expression of disgust on his black-furred face. Walking over to Harry, the puppy dropped the fabric at his feet, and then walked back to Draco, rubbing gently against his ankles in a cat-like fashion.

The five boys watched this performance in stunned silence, and then the lead Ravenclaw shot a sneer at Draco and Harry both before turning in a crippled swirl of robes and limping down the hall, his two cronies at his heels.

Harry turned to Draco to say something funny or poignant or nostalgic, but his mouth just hung open and silent as he saw the blond boy crumple in on himself on the floor and begin to cry.

Harry took a few steps forward and Blackie looked up from his position now in Draco's arms to stare blankly at Harry.

Taking that as a cue, Harry settled on the floor next to, but not touching, the Slytherin.

"Are you… Are you okay?"

Draco sniffled heavily and Harry reached into his trouser pocket for a handkerchief. Finding one he offered it silently. Draco accepted the light blue fabric with a nod of his head, face buried in Blackie's dark furred back.

The dog whined softly, twisting its head and licking at Draco's ear and whatever else it could reach.

After a few minutes Harry heard the sniffles lighten, then stop. He aimed his wand at the Slytherin and whispered a few charms to sooth his eyes that were by now probably red and sore.

Looking up, his eyes clear, Draco handed the handkerchief, cleaned, back to Harry, then stood and brushed the dust of the floor off of his robes. He set the dog on the floor carefully, minding its bandaged stomach.

Harry watched Draco resettled the faded folds of his robe and gather his dignity around him like a cloak before nodding briskly at Harry, smiling at the dog, and walking past him and into the Owlery, spine straight and nose in the air.

Harry watched him go for a few minutes before turning to the dog. "What was that about, you think?"

The dog arched a furry brow at Harry, then curled up on the floor, yawning widely.

"You're right. Probably none of our business. Hungry?"

The dog's muzzle snapped shut with an audible click as he stood up, wagging his tail.

"Thought so," Harry said and led the dog to a certain painting of a certain pear.

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**Note: **For some reason I am big on the Draco torture lately, I don't know. I have always been a big fan of the angst stories, as long as they end happily, so I suppose I write what I like to read, angst with a happy ending. This one is a ghost story, and if you haven't seen the inspiration I won't say anything until the last chapter. I'm not sure when the update will be up as this chapter marks the last of my pre-written chaps, but we will see. I have some time off coming so I have more time to write.

Okay, I have to register a complaint here. I want reviews, and more than that I need reviews. I appreciate every review I have gotten, but this story hasn't gotten a great response and since I don't have any more pre-written chapters I need that push to keep the muse going.

So review. If you want to read more I need you to review.


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